


a study in faded blue

by fractalsin



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Akashi-centric pining, Future Fic, I can't give Akashi a bad wife 2k19, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence, inspired by the kurosute bromides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 18:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalsin/pseuds/fractalsin
Summary: An Akashi Seijuurou in his thirties remembers more than just a simple infatuation as he cradles roses that are never the right shade of blue.





	a study in faded blue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ah yes, because at the core, I am an angsty hoe. Thank you kurosute bromides.  
> My former profile pic would give away how much I love the idea of blue roses. It also can’t be called a fix-it fic (I can't fix anything lmao) when akakuro isn’t even together, but it’s a personal take on some of the events leading up to the Extra Game-Last Game fusion. I swear I'll finish Remembering Youth soon! skhfasKGHsaklghaklh

By a touch of irony, a black limousine always drives past a street basketball court on its way to work.

This is more coincidence than anything. Akashi Seijuurou may be rich, but he has no hand in constructing roads and somehow making that particular street the most convenient way to reach the Akashi Corporation’s Kyoto headquarters.

It’s always only a fleeting glance except for when there’s heavy traffic, and it is then that Akashi watches adults and teenagers alike dribbling, doing crossovers and shooting hoops. There’s mild disappointment whenever the traffic begins to subside, and that can never spell well, to find such relief in temporal things.

After all, Seijuurou is a disillusioned man in his thirties who grudgingly comes back from work to a family name that has only sought to take everything away from him and giving him all that he does have. It’s paradoxical, old money bound to promises that needn’t be spoken, prohibited from chasing pursuits deemed unreasonable when it’s said they can have everything with the brush of their fingertips.

He feels just as he always have. He finds indifference most convenient.

* * *

 

When his wife visits his office, it’s to tell him that she’s attending an opening for one of the restaurant chains they own, that she’ll come into contact with Seijuurou if she makes it in time to fetch their child from kindergarten. It’s more protection than anything to not employ a nanny or any bodyguard to come fetch their child. It’s also hardly coincidence like she puts it, that she 'happens to be in the area'. Seijuurou knows enough about roads to know that she could have easily gone down another route, but instead, she's here.

She immediately corrects herself, saying she can do it on her own. Seijuurou doesn’t need to go out all the way from work to fetch their son. There’s a lingering implication there, even when her tone seems nothing but placating.

With a side-eyed glance, Seijuurou catches his wife’s fingers curl around the blue rose contained in a glass cuvette on his desk. The blue rose is small and artificial, always leaning forward.

She holds it up for inspection, seeing every nook and cranny. “You didn’t say you liked blue roses.” She says, a deeply embedded fascination in her words. It’s sincere. “I see them every time in your office.”

“Yes, and you prefer petunias over roses.”

“Well-observed.” She laughs, though it’s a small sound, one that Seijuurou can only align with weariness. He understands, watching his wife return the blue rose to the cuvette before she pecks him on the cheek. “I’ll be going now. See you tonight.”

Seijuurou nods. As he watches her exit and another employee enter through the glass doors, he thinks that just as these roses in his office were once white, so are his lies, painted fondly with the faintest shade of blue bleeding into the curves of his tongue with a taste that can only be described as bittersweet. 

* * *

 

It had been a smaller get-together in conjunction with his son’s birthday party, a celebration with only the most relevant of friends. Past all unwanted happenings, these friends are steadfast. It’s worth mentioning that since the end of high school, Seijuurou has made a significantly greater effort to have more acquaintances than friends. In his college years, Seijuurou has not made any noteworthy friendships to speak of or recall. In the end, perhaps the road will always lead him back to basketball.

Years back, Seijuurou had already anticipated this, being the one in the tightly knit friend group to bring a child to outings. His younger self had dreamed, with the barest sliver of hope, of things turning out differently. He stops pursuing perfection only much later on, when he is made to realize that it has destroyed him in some places, scars that are only still healing.

“Is he–?”

The silence stretches, but for once, it does not bare its claws. In one of their brief convenience store conversations, he remembers Tetsuya mentioning he likes children. It’s very much like Tetsuya, to admire the children of others than to have his own. He just hadn’t anticipated that it would be his own child.

“Mitsuhide, this is your Uncle Tetsuya.” The child beside Seijuurou looks up at ‘Uncle Tetsuya’ with wide, brown eyes. His hair is the same mop of red but in muted shades, bordering on orange. “Say your greetings.”

Mitsuhide steeps into a low bow with his hands pressed together in front of him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tetsuya-san.”

Tetsuya kneels down to reach eye level, holding out a hand. Seijuurou finds that Tetsuya’s eyes are still just as expressive, now that he sees Tetsuya look at his son. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mitsuhide-kun.” Mitsuhide doesn’t take the hand at first, looking to his father for permission.

Tetsuya patiently doesn’t take it back. Once Seijuurou gives the nod, Mitsuhide joins their hands together.

In the company of many others, Seijuurou’s attention is divided. Even if they do get along, Rakuzan’s regulars in Seijuurou's first year time and Teikou’s Generation of Miracles are still two sets of groups. Like all manners of groups, there are divisions within them as well. Tetsuya has always been closer to Daiki and Taiga, and maybe even Ryouta, but Ryouta’s friendly with everyone, really.

That last meeting is one of polite smiles, considerable distance, and brief conversations snuck in between moments. Seijuurou’s high school self, even before, had settled with the truth that he and Tetsuya had started out differently. It seems logical that they would also end up in faraway places with respect to each other. There seems to be nothing else other than mutual respect. Placing it into perspective, Seijuurou still finds indifference more convenient than relief, even if one is more genuine every single time he finds out something new about Kuroko Tetsuya.

Seijuurou also finds that so long as their perspective is one of equal ground, no complications will arise.

He becomes more and more aware by the day of how little control he truly does possess.

* * *

 

Placing distance between himself and others is a double-edged sword.

Since when did Tetsuya get so close?

(Mindlessly, he tells himself that he should never have let it come to this. That he'd _let_ him, and that was something of a chance he’d given himself.)

* * *

       

The first time Seijuurou realizes the ways in which Tetsuya’s existence has affected his is after the first Winter Cup.

Seijuurou that night had been like a man with a target at the back of his head. Every step he’d taken was filled with agency, because before acceptance came the creeping sensation of dread filling the pit of his stomach like an unwanted visitor.

It’s the only time he gets to touch Tetsuya’s hand, hold it in his and let go the moment the teams part.

When he arrives home, he slips out of his jersey, replying to concerned messages with almost practiced efficiency as he goes to meet his father for dinner. It’s a dinner that passes like it always does, and Seijuurou has to struggle and fight against the lightheadedness with every word he betrays as his father is unaware of his recent loss.     

When he mumbles the words _‘maybe because we met Kuroko’,_ his chest burns just like the moment wherein tears welled up in his eyes, just after Seirin’s victory, under the guise of a sweaty towel. That’s why he knows lies taste like defeat, but at this point, it’s something almost easy to do - lying, that is.

He’ll say this, fluctuating between different states in remembrance of his phantom sixth man stepping into the light for a team that will treat him well. In the meantime, Seijuurou preoccupies himself with fixing what he’s left in the wake of hesitation. He let his team down. He let himself down far more.      

* * *

 

It could be a simple request, even just a message just like the old times to meet up. The seemingly official leader of the Generation of Miracles (it’s a funny title, in all honesty), Seijuurou finds that he can revisit the times they would gather in one place to justify his occasional urge to call upon Tetsuya for company.

That’s only until he realizes that he’s now a person with an empire on his shoulders and a family to take care of. Seijuurou, despite condemning his upbringing, also has to thank it for accustoming him to not be subject to all of his whims. It’s growing to be frightening how he can move away his attention from Tetsuya in the recent years. An inactive shadow in social media, it’s Seijuurou’s turn to be the observer. After all, Tetsuya is now a kindergarten teacher in Tokyo, and while it’s a harmless joke among their friends that he's had enough of his fill of taking care of children, Tetsuya has yet to be in an actual relationship. He’s devoted to his work, so much that Seijuurou finds himself wondering about things unsaid again.

He wonders too much, he concludes.

* * *

 

Buried in Seijuurou’s consciousness is the fact that acceptance comes in small amounts, but when it begins to pile up, it becomes a load of sorts, because every move needs to be calculated. If you do something wrong, they’ll leave you. If you turn back and regret, they’ll tell you that apologies are not enough, that what’s done is done.

Craving acceptance has a constant presence in his life.

He does not dare admit it externally to anyone, but it’s an internal truth that he begins to come to terms with early on. Childhood had been unkind, taking away his holdfast and urging him to find another when his pride will surely interfere. As he stands outside the stadium wearing a jersey alongside six other talented players, he lets his thoughts known for what they’re worth. In many ways, it’s an apology as much as a warning.

Seijuurou is not capable of feeling indifferent in that moment, not when Tetsuya makes it known that he’s welcome, always.

“Akashi-kun is Akashi-kun. I won’t say it’s simple, but it’s how it is.”

Tetsuya first answers him with a victory that he’s earned, and answers him second with a declaration that is as bold as it could come. It's almost as if he's holding out a hand for him to take.

* * *

 

Disappointment is imminent when Tetsuya quits the Teikou basketball club. Seijuurou, captain by then, sees the resignation slip and scorns giving second chances.

But Tetsuya never quite gives up after that. After that one time, he begins to blaze forward with Kagami Taiga by his side. Seijuurou meticulously dabbles with the probabilities in which he’ll be able to see Tetsuya in the finals of the Inter-High. Seirin is not enough yet, and neither is Tetsuya. Rakuzan puts up a fight against Touou. The difference is that it succeeds, and Seijuurou gains the respect of even his seniors. At least, for that time.

So when Seijuurou sees Tetsuya in the finals of the Winter Cup, it doesn’t matter that they’re no longer fighting side by side. It’s a miracle, and it fills him with glee. Even in the face of a hundred faces cheering for Tetsuya, he can’t say he isn’t happy for his success. Even against the odds, Tetsuya always seems to rise, and Seijuurou finds that admirable, even as he himself seems to only keep falling against his will.

* * *

 

“Akashi-kun?”

When Seijuurou turns around, Tetsuya stands there, wearing the red shirt with a neck garter that he always uses for practice.  

“Tetsuya.” He greets, “Were you looking for me?”

Tetsuya walks till he stops just short of a few steps away from Seijuurou. He doesn’t quite look at Seijuurou yet, drinking in the sight of the lampposts lighting up the otherwise dark street heading towards the train station before facing him.  

“Kagetora-san is very drunk, but it’s debatable whether the others aren’t either.” When he does bring it up, it’s the most casual thing in the world. It almost elicits a chuckle from Seijuurou. “You should come back in.”

“Of course.” Seijuurou nods, moving to stand up before Tetsuya speaks, stopping him.

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

Tetsuya seems to have had a change of heart, because he sits besides Seijuurou. Seijuurou remembers a version of Tetsuya asking whether he can sit beside him, but it’s good to know that he’s comfortable enough to just do so now. Tetsuya has always been awfully considerate like that, a bit too much for comfort.

“I would like to take this opportunity for us to talk, Akashi-kun. If it’s alright.”

“You think there is something we need to discuss?” He asks with caution.  

“Many things.” Tetsuya says vaguely, and Seijuurou swears there’s a slight incredulous note to Tetsuya’s voice. “They’ll come look for us only if they’re in the state to.”

Seijuurou resigns, knowing there’s no use telling Tetsuya that he wants to be alone.

“Let’s talk then. What was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Seijuurou does not say he has no doubt about that, “I meant what I said when I said that Akashi-kun is Akashi-kun. I’m here to clear your doubts about certain things if you need me to.”

Seijuurou is offered compassion like a box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, albeit from a familiar face. He can't bury himself in debt when it comes to Tetsuya more than he already has, but he knows Tetsuya won't use it against him. 

“That’s ridiculous, Tetsuya. Doubts do not just fade or clear up, as you so put it.” It does not feel like much of an admission. If there’s anyone who’s seen him in his most vulnerable, it is most certainly Tetsuya. 

“Yes," Tetsuya relents, "But it doesn’t mean I cannot tell you that you’ve done so much for all of us already. If you must insist on punishing yourself, then it’s my turn to do something about it.”

“I never once doubted your sincerity, although I’m sure that you cannot say the same about me.”

“Do you blame me for that?”

“Never, no.”

This seems to be the expected answer for Tetsuya, because he does not raise his voice and simply looks on, quiet until he says yes in acknowledgment. “And I never hated you once, Akashi-kun, even in the moments that I wanted to."

Tetsuya's hand shifts. Seijuurou watches. It doesn't move again, settling on Tetsuya's knee. 

"I must ask you something. Please answer me honestly.”

“What is it?”

“When I succeeded in Mayuzumi Chihiro’s footsteps once again and began to catch up, did you hate yourself?”

Seijuurou begins to question himself why Tetsuya would ask such a question. He discovers that the answer is simple. _Of course_ , he grimaces,  _so that’s how it is._   

“... No.”

Tetsuya catches on to the small, almost tranquil smile on Seijuurou’s face. Eventually, he smiles too. “I’m glad.”

Seijuurou lets out a low chuckle. “You shouldn’t be, Tetsuya. Trust me. You, who are always on the road to self-improvement, should know that you owe me nothing." His feet shuffle on the ground, the soles of his shoes scraping the stone tiles. He looks down, "What I did... could only be called projection.”

Seijuurou remarks himself that Tetsuya seems more self-assured now. He wishes he had that, then and there, because these chances don’t come along very often. He’s not often forced to confront the consequences of his actions, and Tetsuya is a beautiful consequence even now.

“My heart never left the Generation of Miracles, and neither did yours.” Tetsuya turns to look at him, and his breath catches in his throat. When Tetsuya sees no denial, no protest whatsoever, he continues, “I doubted myself so much, but now I’m surer than I’ve ever been. I just hope Akashi-kun can find his answer one day.”

The match with Jabberwock becomes an important bookmark in Seijuurou’s life, of when he grows and begins to accept that as much as he will want a place in Tetsuya’s life that’s more, regret tells him that he doesn’t deserve it. 

Seijuurou begins to stop scorning giving second chances to everyone but himself.  

* * *

 

Tetsuya had been the intended proponent of change in the basketball club. It was with this intention that Seijuurou took him under his wing and let the red string of fate hang down.

“You have to be one step ahead, and for your passing abilities to be utilized to their maximum potential, you have to be able to control your on-court presence.” He jabs a finger straight into the middle of Tetsuya’s chest, “Keep your emotions hidden.”

Their time in Teikou had been defined by its joys, its pains, and its glaring mistakes. Seijuurou owns up to his words and swallows them down like bitter pills; in the end, his choices are his own. He is no victim of circumstance, as the blue rose always seems to tell him. His greatest adversary has always been his own self. Could Tetsuya have known this too?

The limousine passes by the street basketball court once more, but this time, Seijuurou stays. An orange ball in his hands, he passes it to his son with a bounce pass. Mitsuhide takes a step back and catches it.

Seijuurou smiles apologetically when he sees Mitsuhide inspect the ball. “It’s a poor substitute for bowling, I know.”

“That’s alright, father.” Mitsuhide says, “I don’t mind this.”

When Seijuurou looks up, it reminds him of a day of clear blue skies. It takes him back to the past. 

"First five points wins."

Mitsuhide begins to dribble towards him, albeit clumsily. Seijuurou keeps his eyes on his son, feeling the wind stir around them. There's the thrill once more of playing a sport where he had redefined for himself the meaning and the boundaries of love.

 _Thank you, Tetsuya._  

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously salute authors capable of giving Akashi a bitchy wife because even if I do love making my sons suffer I can't ever seem to do that to them???? Real kudos, y'all  
> Posting the kimidokuro fic soon aight :")  
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave some thoughts, because I'm prepared for people to not like however the hell that went down.


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